


More Than Friends

by Iamama23



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, My First Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamama23/pseuds/Iamama23
Summary: Zevran approached Alistair's door to pour his heart out.





	More Than Friends

The time had come. It was a ‘now or never’ moment. His heart was beating so fast, it felt as though it was trying to jump out of his chest. But really, Zevran was standing there because he didn’t want to wait any longer. The thought of living without the man a second longer filled him with unbearable devastation. Drawing a deep breath and then a second one, he knocked on the door.

A beautiful man opened the door, his blond hair looking tousled. He was dressed casually, in a tunic and trousers. Brown eyes regarded the assassin with curiosity. “Zev? What are you doing here?” He stood with his hand on the partially opened door. Zevran could understand his confusion. It was late, too late for a casual visit. He also hadn’t considered that Alistair wouldn’t be alone when he’d made the decision to knock on his door. On one hand, the thought that the man wasn’t alone caused a tight feeling in his chest. On the other hand, he hoped if someone was there he had arrived before they were intimate.

It took him two tries to get his mouth to cooperate. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I should leave.” Except his feet felt like bricks. All he could do was stare, drinking in the sight before him. “I really don’t know why I came.” That wasn’t true. He knew why he was there. It was the same reason that had brought him to his door in the past. He couldn’t seem to stay away. It was like he was thirsty and Alistair alone could quench his need. The difference was this time he had finally worked up his courage to knock.

Trying again to get the words out, the former Crow struggled to make the words seem articulate. “Alistair. I’ve found myself thinking of you nonstop. I wake with your name on my lips. Your face is the last face I picture before falling asleep. The days I find myself too busy to see you are the days I’m most miserable. Yet the days I see you even in passing, those are the days I feel lighter than air.” Was any of this making any sense? It was so hard to tell because Alistair’s face was a blank slate. But he had to get these thoughts out before he exploded.

“I know we agreed to be friends. But I can’t do it anymore. I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. I don’t know if what I feel is love. All I do know is I’ve never felt this way before. No one has made me so crazy in so many ways. But in so many good ways. A brush of your hand has me craving for more. The sound of your voice makes me drop everything to listen. No matter how often I see you, or hear your voice I’m always left longing for more.” Finally he stopped speaking. There were no words left for him to convey his desires. It was up to the future king now to either tell him to leave or ask him to stay.

For a brief moment, he was silent. The rogue waited with bated breath for him to say something. “Oh Zevran.” Three syllables. Two words. But they expressed so much. Zevran felt his heart shattering into a hundred pieces. Alistair didn’t feel the same way. It was evident by the way the man couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was an idiot for telling him how he felt. THIS was why he never opened up to another person. It brought nothing but heartache. To have to rely on anyone else exposed yourself too much, emotions that made you seem vulnerable. He vowed right there to never let it happen again. He would close his heart off, he would feel nothing from this moment on. If he could, he would rip the organ from his chest.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you. You’ll never see me again.” He turned away, intent on returning to his room before the tears began to fall. And Maker help anyone who got in his way. With the way he was feeling, he could tear a person apart limb by limb.

Suddenly a hand shot out and gripped his arm, holding him still. “You misunderstood me, my dear Zevran. I’ve waited to hear you say those words to me for so long. I had just about given up on you. You may be confused as to how you feel about me. But, my love, I’m not. I KNOW that I love you. And if you want to be an idiot and walk away from me now, you should understand something. Now that I know your ‘cold, dead heart’ has life in it, well I won’t let you walk away from me. I will chase you all over Thedas. There is no escaping me.”

The blond elf could only stare dumbfounded at him. He hadn’t expected such a long winded speech. He had hoped, no dreamed, that Alistair felt the same way for him. And now that he had confirmation, his mind was a blank as to how to respond. What did one say when the person they adored felt the same? Once again, Alistair knew what to do. The man always seemed to know what to say or do even before it registered with Zevran how he should react. Pulling him close, he smiled his seductive smile before softly placing his lips on Zevran’s. It was all he needed to kickstart his brain into action. Wrapping his arms around the Warden’s waist, he pushed him into the room, kicking the door closed behind him.

Fumbling with the hem of his shirt, Zevran attempted to take it off him. His fingers were itching to feel the skin of this man’s body. It seemed Alistair was just as impatient as he helped Zevran remove both of their shirts. It had been so long since he had seen the skin normally kept hidden, but he could still remember every ridge. And now he finally had the opportunity to explore him. 

Alistair nudged Zevran's hands out of his way, with the obvious objective being to remove the latter's pants. Forcing himself to keep his hands away, letting the warrior do his job was difficult for the rogue. He wasn't used to being the subordinate, but he was willing to take on the role for his lover. In fact, for the first time he wanted to feel the man he loved inside of him. 

Once Alistair had disposed of Zevran's pants, he took the enlarged cock into his mouth, causing the elf to gasp. “I've wanted to do this for so long.” Not sure if he spoke the words or merely thought them, Zevran gave up on vocal communication. Instead he threaded his fingers in the other man's hair as he thrust into his mouth. It felt so good and his mouth and tongue were doing such sinful things, that Zevran was afraid he wouldn't last long. He didn't want to come in Alistair’s mouth, but the man was persistent, refusing to let up. With a shout and a final thrust, the assassin released his load.

When he was finished, Alistair stood up with a self satisfied smirk. “You taste wonderful, love.” Deciding to see for himself, Zevran pulled him back to him as he kissed him, mingling their tongues. He ached to return the favor, but it seemed he wasn't in charge this time. This was proven when Alistair gave him a gentle shove, sending him sprawling on the bed. Zevran watched lustfully as his lover made a show of taking off his own pants. He knew he wouldn’t have to worry about getting hard again, his counterpart was so sexy that it didn’t take long for his member to become aroused again.

Alistair finished shimmying out of his trousers and bent over his nightstand to grab out his oil, causing Zevran to groan at the sight presented to him. He was the luckiest man alive, to know that he would be able to see this man’s naked form whenever he wanted, and to know that he wouldn’t have to share him with anyone else. There had been that one time, when there had been three entangled in a night of passion, but Zevran only had eyes for one of them. Even now it was still true, the deadly rogue could not tear his eyes away from the only man who had made him WANT to settle down. Maybe he would regret that in the future, but for tonight he felt a peace in his heart such as he had never known. 

There wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be, or anyone else he wanted to be with. He was roused from his thoughts when the sexiest man to ever walk into his life was standing before him again. The heated look Alistair was giving him set his blood boiling, fire coursing in his veins hot and fast. It was no wonder why his heart was no longer frozen and had begun beating again. The man was raw heat. And for whatever reason he had decided that he wanted to be with a former assassin. “Come here,” his voice was gruffer than usual, his accent even more pronounced, but he was yearning to touch him again. As though he couldn’t resist Zevran either, Alistair slid up next to him on the bed. Like magnets, their mouths found each other again. While Alistair spread the oil on his finger to prep his entry; Zevran spread oil on the other man’s cock, rubbing it in and working him up to a fevered pitch. But he was distracted by the feel of the finger thrusting in him, stretching him and probing for his sweet spot. Soon a second finger was inserted, and the elf was panting with the pleasure, desire swirling in his veins. His cock was hard and straining, weeping with precum.

“Please, love, I want to feel you inside.” He couldn’t believe that he, a former member of the Antivan Crows, was reduced to begging for another man to pleasure him; and yet, he wasn’t even a tiny bit embarrassed by it. Smiling his damnable smile and aligning himself with Zevran’s entry, Alistair slowly pushed himself in. He gave Zevran time to adjust to him before easing more of himself in. Each inch of his cock, had Zevran groaning with need. It felt wonderful to be on the receiving end for once. Almost as though their connection was complete. Zevran raised his legs and held onto his knees, giving Alistair better leverage.

Soon Alistair was fully sheathed within his lover's tight hole, both of them gasping with the need to move. The warrior shifted his body unhurriedly, leisurely pulling out to push back in, listening to the soft moans coming from the stoic being beneath him. He was enjoying the torture he was giving, as much as Zevran was enjoying being punished. But when the pleasure became too much for either one to bear, Alistair picked up the pace, causing the moans to become louder and stronger. Soon he was slamming his hips into Zevran and his groans were mixed with curse words. Before they knew it, both men were soaring over the cliff edge heading towards the heavens.

Spent and panting, Alistair rolled off of Zevran and gave him a self-satisfied smirk. The ex-Crow merely rolled his eyes and cuddled into his lover’s side. “Yes, yes, you are good.” He couldn’t believe that he was lying next to him and there was no beautiful woman separating the two of them, like the last time. For a moment, the assassin wondered how he had gotten so good when not too long ago he was a virgin, but the man refused to question it. They didn’t have long before reality would interfere. The Blight had to end, but for the night they could be happy. As though he knew what was on Zevran’s mind, the warrior pulled him closer and wrapped his arms tighter around him. “Sleep,” he whispered and soothed him, listening to his breathing even out before he succumbed to sleep as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Alistair awoke early. He hadn’t told Zevran but he knew what was going to happen when they encountered the Archdemon. There was a chance that last night would not be repeated but he wouldn’t worry the other man needlessly. If he didn’t survive the fight, he hoped that Zevran knew how much he meant to him. And they only way he knew to do that would be write him a note and find a way to get it to him later. Slipping out of the bed quietly, he walked over to his desk and pulled out a piece of vellum and his writing utensil.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this. I've been working on this for a couple of years because writing smut is not my strong suit.


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